Chapter 3 Chapter One

I am ninety, or ninety-three, either ninety or ninety-three. When you were five years old, you knew exactly how old and how many months you were.Even if you are over twenty, you still remember your age clearly.You'd say I'm twenty-three, twenty-seven.But when I was in my thirties, strange things happened.At the beginning, it was just a moment of speechlessness, a moment of hesitation. "How old are you?" "Oh, I—" You blurted out confidently, but suddenly fell silent.You were going to say thirty-three, but instead of thirty-three you were thirty-five.You get upset, wondering if the rest of your life has begun.The answer, of course, is yes, but it will be decades before you admit it.

You start to forget the words, a word is clearly on the tip of your tongue, but you can't hold on to it, and you can't say it.You go upstairs to get things, and when you get upstairs, you don’t remember why you went upstairs.You counted the names of the other children in front of you, and even tried the name of the dog at home, before finally calling the right person.Sometimes you forget what day of the week it is, and eventually even the year. It's not that I'm forgetful like that, it's that I don't care about the passage of time anymore.The millennium is over, I know that, people turn their backs on their backs, those young people are so worried, they search cans, and it's all because some guy was lazy and didn't make room for four digits, only room for two digits .But the millennium could be last month, or it could be three years ago.Then again, what does that matter?Is there any difference in the life of pea puree, cassava, and adult diapers for three weeks, three years, or even thirty years?

I am ninety, or ninety-three, either ninety or ninety-three. There must have been a car accident or roadworks outside, and the old ladies would linger at the windows on the other side of the saloon room, reluctant to leave like children or prisoners.They are thin and weak, their hair is like mist, and most of them are more than ten years old than me.The age gap frightens me. Even if your body betrays you, your heart does not. The caretaker placed me in the hallway with the walker next to my wheelchair.I've come a long way since breaking my hip, thank goodness.There was a time when it seemed like my legs were gone forever before I was persuaded to live in a nursing home.But I get up and walk a few steps every two hours, and I can walk a few more steps every day before I feel the need to go back.This old bone might still have some work to do.

There were five people at the window at the moment, and the silver-haired mothers-in-law got together, bent their fingers and pointed on the glass.I waited for a while to see if they would leave.They did not leave. I lowered my eyes to confirm that the brakes had been fixed, and stood up cautiously, holding on to the armrest of the wheelchair to stabilize my body, while tremblingly moving towards the walker.Once positioned, grab the gray rubber pad of the handle, push it forward until the elbow is stretched out, which is exactly the length of a floor tile, then drag the left leg forward to make sure the walker is stable, and then drag the right leg to the left leg.Push, drag, wait, drag.Push, drag, wait, drag.

The corridors are long and my feet don't work like they used to.My lameness is different from that of Lao Luo, thank God, but I can't walk fast after all.Poor old Luo, I haven't thought of him for many years.His feet were hanging down his calves, and he couldn't control them. When he walked, he had to raise his knees and throw his feet in front of him.I dragged it, as if there were weights on my legs, and with a hunchback, when I walked, I could only see the slippers moving within the frame of the walker. It took a while to think of the end of the corridor, but I did get there, and I did it on my own two legs, which is cool.It was only when the person got there that he remembered that he had to walk all the way back to the wheelchair.

Old ladies make room for me.They are a lively group, some can walk around on their own, and some rely on friends to push wheelchairs.These old girls are still sane and treat me well.I'm a rare person in a nursing home. An old man faces a lot of widows who are still grieving for their widows. "Hey, come here." He Rou said caringly. "Let's show Jacob." She pulled back Dolly's wheelchair a few feet, and hurriedly moved beside me, clasped her fingers, her cloudy eyes sparkled. "Oh, so excited! They've been busy all morning!" I leaned in front of the glass, raised my face, and the sunlight made my eyes narrow.It's so bright outside, it took a while to see some eyebrows, and then the color blocks focused on the shaped body.

There is a huge canvas tent in the park at the end of the street, with a red and white rough-grained canopy, and the canopy can be seen to be pointed at a glance—— My heart suddenly constricted, and I couldn't help but grab my chest with one hand. "Jacob! Oh, Jacob! My God! My God!" cried Hollow, shaking her hands in panic, and then she turned to the corridor, "Nurse! Nurse! Come on! Mr. Jankowski's in trouble !" "I'm fine." I coughed, beating my chest.The old ladies are so annoying, they are always afraid that you will hang up if you stretch your legs. "Herou! I'm fine!"

But it was too late, I heard the creaking footsteps on rubber soles, and within a moment the guards surrounded me.Come to think of it, I don't have to worry about how to get back to the wheelchair. "What's for dinner tonight?" I mutter as I let the nurses push me to the cafeteria. "Porridge? Pea puree? Baby food? Hey, let me guess, tapioca? Is it tapioca? Or are we going to have rice pudding? " "Well, Mr. Jankowski, you're such a joker," said the nurse flatly, knowing that there was no need to answer me.It's Friday, and our menu is, as usual, nutritious and bland meatloaf, creamy corn, re-watered dehydrated mashed potatoes, served with a gravy that may have had a face-to-face with a slice of beef once.They also wondered how I lost weight.

I know some people don't have teeth, but I do.I'd like a stew, the kind my wife makes, with leathery bay leaves to get the proper taste.I want carrots.I'd like boiled potatoes with the skin on.I'd also like a full-bodied Cabernet with my meal, and no canned apple juice.But what I want most is a whole ear of corn. Sometimes I think, if I had to choose between an ear of corn and having sex, I would choose corn.Not that I don't like having sex with women one last time, I'm still a man and some things never change, but the thought of those luscious corn kernels popping between my teeth and cheeks makes my mouth water.Daydreaming is daydreaming after all, I know that, eating whole ears of corn and making love will not happen.I just love multiple choice questions, as if I'm standing in front of King Solomon, debating whether I want a last spring night or an ear of corn.What a wonderful puzzle.Sometimes, I'll substitute corn for apples.

Everyone at every table was talking about the circus, and I mean people who could talk.Those who were silent, with expressionless faces and shrunken limbs, or whose heads and hands were shaking so that they could not use tableware, sat on the edge of the cafeteria, and others took spoons to feed food into their mouths bit by bit, coaxing them to chew.They remind me of baby birds, except they don't have a trace of heat in them.Except for the slight clenching of their jaws, their faces didn't move, and their faces were eerily empty.It's scary because I know I'm following in their footsteps, I haven't gone as far as they did, but it will be sooner or later.I don't want to be in that situation, there's only one way out, and I really can't say I like that way out.

The nurse put me before dinner.The gravy dripping on the meatloaf had formed a film.I poked it with a fork, and the film quivered, teasing me.nausea.I looked up and stared straight at Joseph McQuendy. He sat across from me, a newcomer, a retired lawyer who came out half way, with a square jaw, a snub nose, and big protruding ears.Those ears remind me of Rosie, the only thing they have alike.Rosie is a delicate elephant, and he, well, he's a retired lawyer.I really can't understand what the nurse is thinking. What can he, a lawyer, and I, a veterinarian, have in common?But on the first day he came, the caretaker placed his wheelchair opposite me, and he has never changed seats since then. He glared at me, moving his jaw back and forth like a cow chewing its cud.It's unbelievable that he's actually eating that stuff. The old ladies were chattering happily like schoolgirls, oblivious to our confrontation. "They're staying until Sunday," said Dorothy. "Billy asked." "Yeah, two shows on Saturday and one on Sunday. Randyll and his daughters are taking me there tomorrow." Norma said, turning to me. "Jacob, are you going to see it?" I opened my mouth to answer, but I was not allowed to speak, and Dorothy blurted out: "Did you see those horses? My dear, they are so handsome. I had horses at home when I was a child. Oh, I love riding horses." She looked into the distance. , there was such a flashy moment, I saw that she was very cute when she was a little girl. He Rou said: "Remember the time when the circus traveled by train? The posters would be put up a few days earlier, and all the places in the town that could be posted! There is not even a brick exposed between the two posters!" Norma continued: "Yeah, I remember it clearly. Once, they put the posters outside our barn. They told Dad that the posters were put on with a special glue, and they would be gone two days after the show." It will fall off by itself, but months later, those posters are still glued to our barn, and I’m not human if I lie to you!” She giggled, shook her head and said, “Daddy’s pissed off!” "And then the train comes after a few days, always at the crack of dawn." "My dad used to take us to the railroad to watch them unload stuff. Wow, it was a sight to behold. And a parade! And the smell of roasted peanuts—" "Popcorn!" "Sugar apples, ice cream, lemonade!" "And sawdust! Going up your nose!" "I used to get water for elephants to drink," McQuendy said. I dropped my fork and looked up at him.He was obviously scratching his skin, waiting for the old girls to flatter him. "You've never had that kind of job," I said. Everyone was silent for a moment. "What did you say?" he said. "You never got water for an elephant to drink." "I have, it's true." "You don't." "Are you saying I'm lying?" he said slowly. "If you say you get water for elephants, you're a liar." The older girls stared at me dumbfounded.My heart was beating wildly, and I knew I shouldn't say such words, but I couldn't help it. "You are so bold!" McQuendy put his hands on the edge of the table, his knuckles protruding, and his forearm muscles bulging. "My friend, listen carefully. I have seen a lot of old fools like you in the past few decades. If you talk about making water for elephants, I will confess that there is no such thing at all." "Old idiot? What old idiot?" McQuendy jerked up on the table, his wheelchair rolling backwards.He pointed a deformed finger at me, and then fell to the ground as if blown by a bomb, his body disappeared under the table, his eyes were confused, and his mouth was still open. "Nurse! Hello, Nurse!" cried the old ladies. The familiar sound of footsteps rushing on rubber soles sounded again.In a moment two nurses took McQuendy's arms and pulled him up, and he muttered, trying feebly to shake them off. The third caretaker was a busty black girl in pink.She stood at the end of the table with her hands on her hips. "what happened?" "That old bastard said I was a liar, that's all," said Mr. McQuendy, sitting safely in his chair.He adjusted his shirt, lifted his gray jaw, and crossed his arms. "He also called me an old fool." "Well, I bet Mr. Jankowski didn't mean that," said the girl in pink. "That's what I mean, he's a real old fool. Get water for elephants, yeah. Do you know how much water an elephant drinks in a day?" "Well, I have no idea at all." Norma pouted and shook her head, "I just know that I don't see what's wrong with you, Mr. Jankowski." Oh, I get it, I get it, that's what it is. "Too much! God knows why I have to put up with being called a liar!" said Mr. McQuendy, leaning a little towards Norma, knowing they were on his side. "And the old fool." I reminded him. "Mr. Jankowski!" the black girl raised her voice.She came up behind me and lifted the brakes on my wheelchair. "Maybe you should stay in your room until you calm down." "Hey, wait! I don't need to calm down, I haven't had dinner yet!" I yelled.She pushed me away from the table and headed for the door. "I'll get you there," she said behind me. "I don't want to eat in the room! Push me back! You can't treat me like this!" Apparently she could do that to me.She shoved me across the corridor with lightning speed and made a sharp turn into my room.She fixed the brakes so hard that the whole wheelchair shook. "I'll go back by myself," I said as she raised the footboard. "You can't go back," she said, putting my feet on the ground. "It's not fair!" my voice rose to a whine. "I've sat at that table for eight hundred years. He's been here for two weeks. Why is everyone on his side?" "No one takes sides." She leaned forward, her shoulders resting in my armpits, propping me up, my head resting on hers.Her hair was permed straight and smelled of flowers.She made me sit on the edge of the bed, and my eyes were right on her pink bodice, and her name tag. "Rosemary," I said. "Ok?" "He's really lying, you know that." "I don't know, and neither do you." "I really do. I've been at shows." She blinked, annoyed. "What's the meaning?" I hesitated and changed my mind. "never mind." "Have you ever been in a circus?" "I say forget it." An awkward silence lasted for a moment. "Mr. McQuendy could be badly hurt, and you don't know that," she said, putting my leg in place.Her hands and feet are quick and efficient, but she is not superficial. "No, lawyers are made of iron." She stared at me for a long time, really treating me as a person.For a moment, it was as if I sensed a void in her.Then she suddenly returned to normal. "Is your family going to take you to the circus this weekend?" "Well, yes." I was a little proud, "A child will come every Sunday, just like a clock." She shook out a blanket and put it over my lap. "Do you want me to help you get dinner?" "No need to." An awkward silence.I realized I should add "thank you" but it was too late. "Okay then," she said, "I'll check back later to see if you're missing anything." Yes.No wonder it will come.They always talk about it. But be darling, she's here. "Don't say it." She hurried through the door, pulling my dresser-cum-dining table over my lap.She lays out paper towels, plastic forks, and a bowl of what looks like a really good meal, including strawberries, melons, and apples. "I brought it for dessert. I'm on a diet. Mr. Jankowski, do you like fruit?" I wanted to answer, but I was shaking with my hand over my mouth.Apple, my God. She patted my other hand and left my room, quietly pretending not to see my tears. I stuffed an apple into my mouth and tasted the juice that gushed from between my teeth and cheeks.The blinding light from the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead illuminates my crooked fingers reaching for food from the bowl.That finger looks very strange, how could it be mine. Age is a terrible thief. Once you start to know how to live, it breaks your legs from below, crushes your back, makes you sore here and there, makes you unable to turn your brain, and quietly makes your other half cancerous Spread throughout the body. Doctors say the cancer has metastasized, maybe weeks or months left.But my heart is as weak as a bird, and it died after nine days.After sixty-one years with me, she just held my hand tightly and breathed out her last breath. Although there are times when I would do anything to have her come back to me, I'm glad she was the one who went first.Losing her, I felt as if I was split in two, and the world collapsed in an instant. I don't want her to suffer like that.Being alone sucks. I used to feel that I would rather grow old than die, but now I dare not say so.My life is games, singing sessions, and gray, wheelchair-bound old men lining the hallways.Sometimes I'm so bored that I want to die, especially when I remember that I am also a gray old man, sitting in line with people like a worthless souvenir, and I want to die even more. But there was nothing I could do but spend time waiting for the inevitable moment while watching the ghosts of the past haunt the emptiness of my life.The ghosts knocked and beat, not at all polite, mostly because no one dealt with them.I have stopped resisting. Now they are knocking and beating. Boy, take it easy and stay a little longer.Oh, sorry--I can see that you have stopped being polite to me. God damn ghost.

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